


your protector

by izukillme



Series: forged by the storm within [2]
Category: Cosmere - Brandon Sanderson, Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Book 01: The Way of Kings, Elhokar Finds Out, Gen, Murder, Not Canon Compliant, Poison, dark!Renarin, seriously our boy is... very very heartless in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:07:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22829944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izukillme/pseuds/izukillme
Summary: “What are you?” Elhokar asks, reaching a trembling hand towards the man he used to know.
Relationships: Elhokar Kholin & Renarin Kholin
Series: forged by the storm within [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1641259
Comments: 12
Kudos: 7





	your protector

**Author's Note:**

> Set just after Elhokar's girth is cut in The Way of Kings.

“An assassination attempt,” says Renarin softly, pacing about the room with increasing agitation. “How did I not know of this?”

“None of us did,” Elhokar says quietly, looking at the ground. “I must admit, I was expecting this sooner. I suppose they must have waited until I grew complacent and stopped watching out.”

Renarin stops his pacing, hurrying towards Elhokar and taking his hands. Elhokar is slightly surprised - Renarin has never been one for contact - but accepts the gesture, knowing that his young cousin is prone to emotion with his near and dear ones. 

“Your girth was cut? How?” he asks urgently, clasping Elhokar’s fingers tightly with gloved palms that press painfully against his hands. His blue eyes are anxious, worried - and to Elhokar, there seems to be an almost dark edge to them. 

The king swallows.

“I don’t know,” he forces out, finding it intensely difficult to lie to those searching eyes. Fortunately, Renarin seems to believe him, dropping his hands and running his gloved fingers through windswept locks of black peppered with blond. 

“Heralds,” he mutters, eyes darting up to the ceiling. “I… I did not expect this. I thought…”

Elhokar feels fear creep up his spine unbidden. Renarin’s gaze is faraway, and there is  _ something _ in those blue irises, normally so clear and honest, that scares him. 

“Renarin,” he appeals gently, reaching out a hand to the boy but not making contact. “Are you alright? If you are scared for my life, don’t be - Uncle Dalinar will take care of it.”

Deep down inside, he knows Renarin is not scared. Not an iota of fear shines in those blue eyes - no, what resides there is fury, Elhokar realises with a sudden lurch of his stomach. Fury at what, he doesn’t know.

He doesn’t think he wants to. 

Renarin takes a deep breath, eyes focusing once more on the land of the living. The anger in his gaze disappears to be replaced by cool intent. He blinks, eyelashes fluttering, looking first at Elhokar, then at the door. 

“I’m… well,” he says. A non-answer to the question, but Elhokar will take it over that insurmountable fury. “I must leave you now, Cousin, but… take care of yourself.”

And with that he sweeps out of the room, every inch a prince of Alethkar. Elhokar stares after Renarin, whose Kholin-blue uniform billows behind him as he walks purposefully away, wondering what happened to the timid, fearful boy he used to know. 

It is not until a fortnight later when he realises the full truth of what Renarin Kholin has become.

The nightly feast seems to be going… well, at least by Elhokar’s standards. There hasn’t been much drama, and it doesn’t feel like everyone in the room is silently condemning him for being unable to be the king his father was. Elhokar knows that whining about it isn’t going to help, that he should  _ do _ something about it; but  _ oh _ , it is one thing to know and entirely another to do. For now, though, there is peace - or the closest thing to peace that they can get on a literal battlefield.

At least, until Brightlord Malin’s nephew collapses onto the floor, the empty glass of yellow wine he had just drained clattering out of his slackened grip.

Malin is the first to rise, mouth open in shock and horror as he reaches for the boy. His wife follows, as do a few other lords and ladies in the immediate vicinity. The Malin couple shake the youth, pleading for him to wake, but there’s froth around his mouth and his face is blue.

Electricity runs up Elhokar’s spine as he realises. 

_ Poison - in the wine.  _

He pushes away his own glass, uncaring as the fluid spills onto the floor. Appetite gone - what if the food is laced as well - he raises a hand and orders loudly, “All wine caskets to be removed  _ immediately!  _ Everyone is to leave for their camps - the feast is over!”

And without looking back, he strides out of the hall. A hand on his shoulder stops his paranoid escape, however, and Elhokar turns to see that it’s Renarin.

“There was no need for all that,” Renarin says softly. “The rest of the food wasn’t laced. Just his.”

Elhokar feels a chill in his bones. 

“Wh-” he stutters through numb lips. “You speak as if you know how it was done.”

Renarin’s mouth quirks up at one corner in a twisted variant of a smile, and his eyes sharpen with that same dark edge Elhokar had seen earlier.

Now, contrary to popular belief, Elhokar Kholin is not stupid. He is a fool, but he is not stupid. And so, it is all too easy to put together the pieces of what  _ really _ happened.

“I -  _ you?! _ ” he splutters, staring in shock at Renarin. Tender, subdued Renarin, a boy who couldn’t bring himself to hurt a cremling.

Or so they had thought.

Renarin’s queer smile remains in place; it’s all the confirmation that the king needs.

Elhokar grabs his cousin’s wrist - in spite of this new revelation, his gut tells him Renarin will not hurt him - and drags him to an empty room just off the feasting hall. He turns around to face Renarin, disbelief warring with confusion as to his motives. Eventually the confusion and curiosity (the one thing he got from his mother) win out, and he asks in a quiet voice, “Why?”

Renarin shrugs as if it’s obvious. “He’s the one who cut your girth.”

Elhokar’s thoughts stutter to a stop.

“What?” 

Renarin nods. “Malin’s nephew often spoke of deposing you. You did not have a very good reputation among him and his friends… but that is not all. He was spotted near the stables on the night before your cut strap was discovered.”

“I… Renarin.” Elhokar speaks slowly, forcing every syllable out. “Renarin, that isn’t possible.”

Renarin’s surprise is evident in his parted lips. “How come? Have you  _ known _ who it is all along?” Irritation starts to replace the shock, and his mouth curls as he snaps, “You might have told me earlier!”

“No, Ren-” Elhokar struggles for words, reverting to his cousin’s childhood nickname, “I… it was  _ I  _ who cut the girth.”

The revelation of his cowardice brings a brilliant flush to his cheeks. It sounds so…  _ stupid _ , when he says it out loud. Oh, Almighty, he is truly one of the Ten Fools. 

Renarin’s expression stills completely. 

Elhokar panics at the emotionless cast of his face, stammering to explain, “It’s - it’s not what you think! I did it to - to have Uncle look into assassination attempts… I felt that someone was after me, but no one would take me seriously. This was the only way-”

“Elhokar.” Renarin’s soft voice cuts through his babbling, and Elhokar looks up, wild green eyes connecting with calm blue ones. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I’m just… if it were  _ you _ all along, then…”

“You killed the boy for no reason.” Elhokar realises aloud.

“No,” Renarin snorts quietly, shaking his head. “No, that does not affect me; I’m long past thinking about innocents. There  _ are _ no innocents in this world anyways - and who knows? In due time he may have decided to try something.” 

He starts to pace about the room; Elhokar watches him and feels sick to his stomach. 

“I’m just angry that you did not tell me what you suspected. I would have looked into it. Made sure no harm came to you. If you would lean on me more, I would not have to rely on hearsay from gossiping lords and ladies.” Renarin sighs through his nose, eyes half-closing. “But no matter. I’ll do so immediately, and if any threats are found I’ll eliminate them the minute I am able.” He raises his head to his cousin, smiling a little. “I suppose this is… therapeutic. Bearing this secret for so long has been difficult; I’m glad that you know, at least. I’ll keep you all safe, I swear it. You will not reveal this to Father, will you, Elhokar?” His voice takes on a slight edge at this, the same sharp knife that is in his eyes, and Elhokar knows if he tells Dalinar of this he will no longer fall under that sphere of Renarin’s protection.

He raises a shaking hand to touch his face. It’s cold and pale, devoid of all colour - and rightly so. Who wouldn’t be stunned at the revelation that their sweet, precious, gentle-hearted cousin was a stone-cold killer, uncaring for a guiltless life he had taken? 

But for all of his fear and shock and anger, his lips move of their own will, whispering, “Of course not.”

Renarin nods and turns to leave, his coat sweeping around him like death trailing in his wake; Elhokar lets him. It is only when Renarin is at the doorway that he is finally able to speak.

“What are you?” he asks, reaching a trembling hand towards the man he used to know.

Renarin smiles brilliantly.

“I’m your protector. Forever and always,” he answers gently and disappears.

**Author's Note:**

> A continuation to my earlier dark!Renarin fic. I've decided to make this a little verse of ficlets, showing how Renarin's darker side impacts the entire story. Thanks for reading - if you enjoyed it, please comment! <3


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